Make Things Right
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: Rachel has a confession to make. Pezberry
1. Chapter 1

"Please say something."

Santana didn't. She just stood there, looking at Rachel's shoes.

"Santana, please," Rachel begged. "Yell, scream, start cursing in Spanish, just… say something."

"What changed?" Santana whispered.

"Sorry, what?"

"What changed?" Santana asked, in a completely calm voice. "You were getting away with it. You weren't acting overcome with guilt. I had no idea - mostly because I never really thought you could cheat on me."

Rachel flinched. Santana hadn't raised her voice, but something in the defeated way she said that cut Rachel to her core.

"So what changed? Obviously something prompted you to tell me."

"She's…blackmailing me. Said she'd go to the press if I didn't pay her."

"How much?"

"Fifty grand."

Santana let out a hollow laugh. She got up and went to the door.

"Santana!" Rachel said, sounding panicked.

"I need to sleep in the guest room tonight," Santana said without turning around. "I need to be alone and think. And I think you do too. We can talk tomorrow, maybe."

"Santana, please," Rachel said, catching her hand. She let a few tears fall when Santana pulled away. "Tell me how to make this right."

Santana stopped just outside their bedroom door. "I don't know how you can make this right," she whispered, before walking down the hall to the spare room.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel had expected to come home to an empty house after dropping the kids off at school. Instead, she found Santana on the couch in sweats, hair still damp from the shower. She took a deep breath and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, facing her wife.

"I figured you would've gone in to work by now."

"Called in sick," Santana said, sipping her tea. "We need to talk. Actually, I need to talk, and you need to listen."

Rachel nodded and kicked her shoes off. "Go on," she said, tucking her legs under her.

"I couldn't sleep last night. Not at all. I always thought that we would be the ones – the couple who dodged all the drama. I guess I was wrong. And then I started wondering what I had done – how this was my fault. If I had been an asshole to you, or pushed you away, or hadn't shown you enough affection –"

"Santana," Rachel cut in, but stopped when Santana held up a hand.

"But I know I've been a good wife. Not a perfect wife, but a good wife. And so then I started thinking about where we go from here. And that's going to depend entirely on you."

"I'll do whatever –"

"Stop. For once in your life of being the center of attention, you're going to listen," Santana said coolly. "I don't want a divorce, so you can get the worst out of your head. And I don't want you to grovel, either, and promise to do anything I ask. You shouldn't make promises you might not be willing to keep."

Rachel sat silently for a few moments before asking, "Then…what do you want?"

"I want us to work," Santana said, and it was hard to miss how broken she sounded. "So here's my list. This first thing probably doesn't need to be said, but I'll say it anyway: you're not going to see her again. Oh, we're going to pay the bitch off," she said, seeing Rachel about to interrupt. "But you're going to arrange the meeting in a public place, and I'm going to deliver the check. Don't worry, I'm not going to slug her or anything. But I want to see her. I need to know what the hell it is you found so damn tempting that you decided cheating would be a good idea. Second? We're going to counseling. By ourselves for a while, and then together."

"Of course. But how long by ourselves?"

"Until I stop hating you," Santana whispered. "Until I can forgive you."

Something inside Rachel broke, but she refused to let herself cry. "Fine, yes. What else?"

"You're going to tell me what happened."

"Santana…I…do you really want to know?"

"Yes. Every last detail. And you're going to look me in the face while you tell me."

Rachel closed her eyes for a long moment, before looking up at Santana and nodding. "Okay. It was the night of the charity event for Doctors Without Borders…."

* * *

_"And may I introduce you to Miss Rachel Berry?"_

_"Lopez, Conrad," Rachel corrected with a million dollar smile. "Rachel Lopez, now."_

_"That's right, I saw the wedding on TV. I'm Amanda Pierce – I do grant writing work for a bunch of different organizations."_

_"That's wonderful! We might have to steal you away for Showbiz Kids."_

_"Conrad's been foaming at the mouth about your organization all night. We should talk about it." The tall blonde woman took her by the arm and led her to a table. "I'd love to do some work for you. How's your funding? Looking shaky like everyone's, I expect."_

_"Oh definitely!" Rachel laughed and waved the waiter over. "We were doing well for next year, but a couple of donors backed out this month."_

_"I'll see what I can do. Do you come to these things often?"_

_"Far too much," Rachel groaned. "But I have a press thing here in L.A. tomorrow afternoon, so there was no reason for me to not be here tonight."_

_Amanda smiled at her. "Well, now that I've attracted your attention with some important work matters…I don't think anyone would mind if we sneaked away for a bit."_

_Something in the way the blonde looked at her made Rachel blush. She laughed nervously and looked down for a moment. "I really can't."_

_"Why not?" Amanda asked, reaching across the table to play with Rachel's fingers. "It's just boring speeches from here on out. And you've probably already given a mountain of money to them. Come on…we can go get a drink somewhere."_

* * *

"I know what happens next," Santana said softly.

"Huh?"

"You called me. I heard the cars going by and asked why you'd left the event, and you said you weren't feeling well. I remember worrying about you. So what then?"

"We went out for drinks," Rachel said, looking down at her hands.

"Look at me."

With a sigh, she looked up again. "We went out for drinks. And…when we were getting ready to leave we went to the bathroom. She kissed me, and offered to…er…walk me home."

Santana actually rolled her eyes at the cliché. "And then you fucked her."

Rachel nodded, unable to meet Santana's eyes anymore.

"Is there anything you're leaving out?"

"No. I left that night after she'd gone to sleep."

Santana nodded. "Call her. On speaker. I want to get this over with."

* * *

The pub was crowded, but Santana moved through the throng of people calmly and easily. She slid into the seat across from a tall blonde with shoulder length hair and piercing green eyes.

"Um…sorry, do I know you?" she asked.

"No," Santana said. "But you know my wife." She pulled out an envelope and slid it across the table. "Just so you know, Rachel changed her phone number today. Don't bother trying to reach her. We're paying you because we want to shut you up. We don't want you screwing up Rachel's reputation, because then the charity would be on the line. But don't fuck with our family again. This check is the last thing you're getting out of us."

Amanda watched as Santana walked away before opening the envelope. The check was there, but… it was only for made out for a thousand dollars. In the memo, it said, "That night was not worth fifty grand."

* * *

Santana stood in the doorway and turned the light off in the kids' room. She closed the door and walked across the hall to the guest room.

"Santana?"

"Yeah, Rachel."

"How long are you going to stay in there?" Rachel asked softly.

"I don't know. But I know I need some space for a while." She hesitated for a moment, before striding over and hugging Rachel.

"Will we ever be okay again?" Rachel whispered.

"…Yes."


End file.
